Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Unedited Peace

Readmitted to the hospital, a flurry of doctors and orders
attend to her. They cannot stop the pain
or nausea, venting the tube that feeds chemical food no longer helps. It was her greatest fear, that the end would
be ugly, the two year fight spent devoted to laughter and joy of the moment.
Her partner writes, “They have to stop the pain and nausea. She must let go in
peace.”

Writers, poets, artists and sculptors spend hours, days even
months perfecting their craft, each sentence, word, stroke and pause. I would not think the birth of the heart’s
pouring ever made it untouched, perfected and edited to those who would
behold. I giggle to think of the
Christian creation story where God created the world and humanity, and
pronounced, “It is good.” God did not
say perfect. From birth, like the birth
of the heart’s creativity, we feel perfection is the standard and edit,
retouch, throw away, scrap, rewrite our lives to conform to that anonymous
standard of perfection. We forget that
precious moment of birth when with the first cry, the newborn is recognized by
heart, body, soul and mind as ‘simply perfect.’
We lose that moment and parents, child, society and institutions begin
to edit.

With ports, shunts and god knows what else, she swam with
the dolphins, dove into the sky from a plane with her brother holding her hand,
she flew in a side car to sit by the waterfalls, friends four-wheeled her wheel
chair to Lake Superior’s shore with a handmade grabber so she could gather
agates, she planted perennials and trees that will not sprout til next year. She did not edit neither has she allowed the
cancer to edit. Each moment, each pause,
word and painted stroke perfect in itself.

An unedited offering to the Sweet Hands of Life, naked and
unshielded, that Annie may have her peace and that her courage to live unedited
will continue in the lives she has touched. I take my stutter hand from its
closeted pocket where it is hidden, and take yours in mine, Annie. As you said, ‘We all have our cancers.’ “Lettiiiinng
go iiiin peaec…….unedddiiiiide.”

About Me

I am not wise but I try to listen and struggle to see. I have more questions than answers. The ball of yarn and threads, representing answers to the meaning of life and the immortal question of “Why?” more often than not, falls from my heart’s loom to the floor, unraveling and becoming fodder for my cat.
Bowing from my waist in respect for you, bending my neck to offer my humble path, and hands clasped to my heart, I surrender my honor and heart to life, nature, to you and myself. Intertwined…Affirming Healing.
"In Lak' ech".... you are my other me.
Please visit new blog page http://www.whisperedgracebook.com/ or Facebook https://www.facebook.com/whispered.grace